Second Chances
by afullmargin
Summary: Slash. Agent Coulson gets a second chance, literally.


**Rating**: Teen

**Notes**: My first time playing in this sandbox, and I go with my rare first person POV. Hopefully did good by the fandom with it. Written for Older Not Dead Promptathon 10: "inspired by".

**Prompt**: ?. ?/?. Second Chances

**Spoilers**: The Avengers film.

**Disclaimer**: This is a work of fictional parody in no way intended to infringe upon the rights of any individual or corporate entity. Any and all characters or celebrity personae belong to their rightful owners. Absolutely no money has or will be gained from this work. Please do not publicly link, repost or redistribute without letting me know first.

**Written**: 8/2012

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It was quick, I won't say painless – but definitely quicker than I thought it would be. For some reason I always pictured my death as being drawn out and dramatic with lots of exposition like in the movies. And then, well if there was something I don't remember it. Nothing until I opened my eyes again and saw only sterile white walls and the ceiling to match. I couldn't move and I could only feel the cold oxygen being forced into my lungs and when I tried to take a real breath my body flat refused to play along.

And then I saw him, Director Fury – Nick. He was there with me and looked like he was shouting even though I couldn't hear him. Everything happened so fast, people in white scrubs with masks and various tubes and syringes and bags of oddly colored IV fluid and after what seemed like hours I felt something warm and tight around my hand and managed to turn my head just enough to see him sitting beside me with the same cool, calm expressionless glare I've come to expect from him in just about any circumstance.

When he saw me move, that expression was gone. His face seemed to melt, the muscles normally trained into a tightlipped scowl twisting upward into a genuinely warm smile. Apparently, I wasn't dead… and it was a very good thing. "Can you hear me?" He asked in a soft voice that seemed like it was behind an invisible wall.

I tried to speak but my lips wouldn't move. Instead, I tried to move the hand he was clenching tight. My fingers curled with a dull ache like I'd been taking notes too long, but seemed all right with moving – which was a good start at least.

His smile didn't fade; Nick nodded and then looked up – checking to see if we were alone, I guess – and then lifted my hand to press a small kiss on my knuckles. "You died, Phil. You weren't supposed to die on me."

I felt my eyebrows twitch and tried to somehow convey that it wasn't exactly what I had planned on doing that day, but with only a weak hand to make my point it was more a deep hope that he already knew. Of course he did, he had to know that I was just a casualty of the job.

"You won't be able to move much for a while yet, got you behind what we're calling a Bio-Net – think the boy in the bubble but a bit more high-tech. Just for the record, you only had about a five percent chance of surviving the reanimation or whatever they're calling it."

Which is comforting, really. I mean, what guy doesn't want to hear that they were not only dead but apparently brought back by some long-shot mysterious combination of technology and magic that seemed to keep S.H.I.E.L.D. going some days. He was silent for a long time, just sitting there and holding my hand until he was called away by home office, and while he might not admit to it – he never would before I died, why should it change after – he clearly didn't want to go.

By the next morning when he finally came back looking like he was running off more coffee than sleep, I could whisper and somehow he heard me at least as well as I heard him. "You look good," were the first words I managed with what I intended to be a wry smile that probably only looked a little pathetic.

"Been a rough couple days. You missed a lot, we're gonna be cleaning up for a long time."

I would have nodded if I could have moved my neck; instead I merely waited for him to say something more. When he didn't, I asked; "Is everyone else okay? I haven't seen anyone but you and medical staff…"

"We're burying you today." His face held true to the stoic coolness, though I could hear the hitch in his breath – letting on he wasn't comfortable with the thought.

"I'd kind of prefer that you didn't."

Nick shifted in his seat; "They need closure, Phil… you're getting a second chance most guys don't get."

"What… away from S.H.I.E.L.D.? You've got to be pulling my leg… I mean, I've dedicated my life to this organization."

"I need you to walk away now."

"Walk away?" I rasped, like it was actually something I could do let alone would. "To what? Being a civilian? You think it will make anything better for me to walk away?"

"Barton knows," he said suddenly. "He's seen us together. We've been getting sloppy…"

"So what, this is your way of making me leave? If you want out, Nick… we don't have to…"

"It's my way of taking work out of the equation."

I'd never really thought of it that way, I mean sure… I guess our relationship was a secret for a reason and the reason had a lot less to do with presenting a clean-cut image than covering both our asses should it ever become a work related problem, but I guess it never really occurred to me that I'd be put in a position where he would make me choose. Where he wasn't the guy I saw behind the position he held, he was Director Fury then – all business, all for keeping the organization going. "So you're making me choose between you and S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"No. The decision's been made."

"And you assumed I'd pick you?" It hurt to ask, and not just the stabbing twist lingering in my back… the sort of genuine hurt that can only come from saying something you know will harm the other person. The sort of hurt I'm pretty sure Nick Fury's never been able to feel.

He paused and licked his lips before lowering his gaze, idly running the tips of his fingers over my hand. After what seemed like forever, he answered; "I've watched you die once. I don't plan on doing it again. I want you somewhere safer than here, even if it means we're done."

Another time, maybe, it would have hit me differently than it did – but at that moment I couldn't help but be angry. It was the part of him I both admired and hated, the director… the boss that not only wanted to do what was best for everyone but thought he knew what it was well enough to execute plans without bothering to ask the people it affected. It made for a great Director, but not such a great man. "You don't get to tell me where I'm safe, Nick…"

"It's not from me. Direct orders…"

"Orders from the boss, who just so happens to be you."

"I was acting in the best interest of the organization…"

"And pretending it was in my best interest, that's just like you…"

Fury frowned, glowered at me even, but I knew I'd hit a nerve. Finally, he said; "What do you want me to do? You died, Phil. I'm offering you a chance at life you won't get again."

"I don't want that life. I want my life."

His frown didn't fade, he looked down and let go of my hand and for a minute I thought he might leave and I'd be left there for who knows what to happen. Instead, he picked up his phone and called the one person he knew he could trust to broadcast what he had to say. "Stark," he sighed, looking back at me as he set it to speaker; "we need to cancel the service."

"Thought we weren't working today… but I guess Phil would probably work through his own service if he could…"

I smirked, and was about to tell him he was right when Fury said; "He won't be back quite that soon, probably a couple weeks."

"I see…" For a rare moment, Tony Stark was speechless save for the sound of a heavy glass hitting wood. "I know you're pretty shaken up about losing your… guy… and all, but I'm pretty sure he died. You know, the whole stabbed through thing."

I swear Nick smiled, just a little before answering; "He got better. He can take visitors tomorrow."

"Right. Well, then… I've got a few phone calls to make."


End file.
